


Figuring It Out

by BonfireSmoke



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Back to the Future References, Cliffhangers, Confusion, First Dates, In which they try and fail to have a simple lunch, Lila's a wingwoman, Lila's done, Lila's taking NONE of Mycroft's shit, M/M, More failed lunches, Myc's a bit distracted, Myc's in Syria, Mycroft's putting up walls, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Being Sherlock, You're Welcome, and there's a case, but are we really surprised?, but that's not important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonfireSmoke/pseuds/BonfireSmoke
Summary: Greg Lestrade is a hard-working police officer; with an unfaithful wife. He tries his best, but always seems to come out at the bottom.Mycroft is delving farther and farther into his work every day, to the point where his PA is restricting his internet access, and Sherlock is taking up more and more of his time every day.Can the two of them figure out how to help each other, or will this have an extremely messy end.





	1. Getting Started

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter fic guys, as always, constructive criticism and feedback is extremely appreciated.
> 
> I have no set plan for updating, I'll try to update at least once a week, but I make no promises.

Greg walked out of the Yard, resigning himself to another night of sitting in front of the telly, eating takeout, and waiting to see if his wife would come home  _ tonight _ . He sighed, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d already be there. The odds of that, however, were extremely low. He walked over to his car, and started the drive home.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft was at his desk, typing up a report. He had a conference call scheduled with China in an hour, and he was hoping to get at least another paragraph or two in before then. He’d skipped lunch, Sherlock had noticed his expanding waistline again. Anthea walked in, holding a plate of salad.

“Mr. Holmes, you need to eat something. I don’t believe you had lunch, and if I’m not mistaken, you haven’t had breakfast either.” Mycroft waved her away.

“I don’t need food at the moment, I’ve a call with China soon, and I need to get this done before then.” He elected to ignore the sounds his stomach made immediately after his statement.

“Sir, I swear I  _ will _ hold off the call until you’ve eaten a sufficient amount of this salad.” Anthea stalked over to Mycroft’s desk, took his computer, and set the salad down in its place.

“Fine.” He grudgingly agreed, “but only so I can receive the call on time.

 

_O_

 

Greg got out of his car, and headed over to his flat, tossing a hello at his landlady. As he closed the door, be shrugged out of his coat, and toed off his shoes. He opened the fridge and tossed the old takeout into the microwave. He flipped on the TV, and checked his phone, hoping that maybe Sarah had texted, but nothing. He sighed, and pulled his food out of the microwave. He flopped down on the couch, checked his phone once more, and resigned himself to another night of sitting alone, eating takeout, and watching TV.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft hung up the phone with China, it was nearing midnight. Anthea walked in with his coat.

“Sir, you should go home and get some rest while you can. You’re flying out to Syria tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know.” Mycroft muttered, stretching, “and I suppose you’re right.” He stood to take his coat. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.” And with that, he swooped out of the office, to his car. He nodded to the driver, “home please,” and settled in for the ride.

 

_O_

 

Greg’s phone starting ringing halfway through the second Harry Potter movie. He reached over and grabbed it, not bothering to see who it was before answering.

“DI Lestrade speaking.”

“Detective Inspector, I’m afraid that you’re needed at the yard, Sherlock.”

Greg sighed, “I’m on my way.” He got up, grabbed his coat, and was out the door. He reached the Yard less than 10 minutes later. “What’s he done now.”

“Broke into your office,” said Sally “said something about ‘cold cases’ and how you ‘promised’ him something. He’s in the interrogation room right now.”

“Thanks Sal, I’ll go talk to ‘im.” Greg opened the door to interrogation, “so, Sherlock. Breaking and entering, and getting  _ caught _ ! I’d’ve put that above you.”

“Graham,” Sherlock said with a nod, “I see that the Mrs is out with another man tonight? Pity, really. Before this your marriage to her had a slight chance of being saved. I suggest you file a divorce before it’s too late.”

“Stuff it Sherlock.” Greg grumbled, “I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life. I would, however, like you to tell me why you were breaking into my office at bloody eleven thirty p.m!”

“Simple, Grant, really. You promised me a stack of cold cases if you didn’t have a new one. You haven’t called about any new ones yet, so I’m simply collecting my due.”

“Sherlock…” Greg scrubbed his hand over his face. “I promised you those if I didn’t have a new case by  _ next week _ . I still have 4 days before I owe you those cases. Now, I’m going to give you two choices. Choice number one, you leave and you don’t bother me until I call you. Choice number two, overnight in jail. You have 30 seconds to pick.” Greg crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll leave, but only so that my fat-arse of a brother doesn’t have to drag himself out of his office to come and bail me out. I’ll see you in 4 days, Garrett.” Sherlock swung himself out of the seat, and walked out of the room.

 

_O_

 

“Mycroft.” Sherlock said, his voice crackling over the phone, “I don’t know how you found out but yes, I did break into Detective Lestrade's office.”

“Sherlock it’s 5 in the bloody morning. I need to be at the office in less than an hour, if you could make this brief.” Mycroft was straightening his tie in the mirror as he talked to his brother. “If you wouldn’t do that again please, I really don’t have the time to bail you out of jail every time you get bored. Go bug Dr. Watson or something. Good day, brother mine.” Mycroft hung up with a sigh, and texted his driver to get him. It was going to be a long day.

 

_O_

 

Greg strolled into the Yard, coffee in hand. It was looking to be a day full of meaningless paperwork, not a mass murderer in sight. He hummed to himself as he unlocked his office, and sat down behind his desk. He unlocked his computer, to about 10 emails from Sherlock. He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Fucking Sherlock.” He didn’t bother reading them, he just pulled out the first file, and got to work.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft checked his phone as he disembarked the plane. Two missed calls from Dr. Watson. Mycroft called him back, “Dr. Watson?”

“Mycroft, thank God. Uh, Sherlock’s in the hospital. He got into a fist fight with a nasty dude, he’ll be fine, just letting you know.”

“Thank you, Doctor, now, if you’ll excuse me,” Mycroft hung up.

 

_O_

 

Greg entered the hospital, and walked up to the reception desk, “miss, can you direct me to Sherlock Holmes’ room please?”

“Of course sir,” she scrolled on her computer a bit, “he’s in room 203.”

“Thank you.” Greg walked down the corridor, stopping at Sherlock’s room and letting himself in. John was there, he looked tired, but no more than usual.

“Hey mate.” John looked to Greg and smiled, “he’s fine. Just happy they put him on something, this is the most he’s slept in weeks!”

Greg laughed, “well, I don’t doubt that.” Sherlock coughed, and looked over to them.

“Ah, Gavin! How kind of you to drop by. Have a case for me, by any chance?”

“No luck, Sherlock.” Greg rolled his eyes, “I see you’re going to be fine, I think I’m gonna head home now. See ya.”

 

_O_

 

Mycroft paced his hotel room, he wanted an update on Sherlock’s condition but Anthea had confiscated his computer, and cut of his internet access on his phone. He didn’t want to call the hospital or John… the Detective Inspector! Mycroft whipped out his phone and dialed Greg’s number.

“DI Lestrade.”

“Detective, I was wondering if I could get an update on Sherlock’s condition? I’m assuming you’ve been there recently.”

“Well, you’d be in luck. Just left, he’s fine, pestering me about cases already.”

Mycroft huffed out a sigh of relief, “I’m sorry to take up your time, then.”

“No trouble,” Greg paused a moment, thinking, “would you like to… maybe when you get back I could take you out for lunch? I’d like to get to know you better.”

“How did you know that I’m out of country?”

“If you hadn’t been, you’d be at Sherlock’s bedside. I’ve seen you there enough times to know.”

“Very good, detective. I will join you for lunch, so long as you let me schedule. My day’s are quite unpredictable, and I can ensure that you’ll have that time off.”

Greg laughed a little, “Sounds wonderful, Mr. Holmes.”

“Mycroft, please.”

“Then you can call me Greg.”

Mycroft smiled, just a little. “Gregory. Goodbye, I’ll contact you for our get together soon.”

“Bye.” Mycroft hung up the phone, now, all he had to do was to get through a few more days, and he could see the Detective!


	2. The First Fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I think I've got some semblance of a scheduled for this. Expect an update every 1-2 weeks, usually on a Friday or Saturday.
> 
> Criticism is appreciated!

Mycroft was back in London, had been for almost two weeks. He had yet to call the detective to organize a lunch. After he’d hung up the call, once the initial rush had faded, he realized that he was making a huge mistake. Gregory must’ve felt sorry for him because of his brother, there was no way someone like him would want to know someone like  _ Mycroft _ ! Absolutely no way.

Mycroft fought with himself, pacing back and forth across the living room. On one hand, if he called the DI, he’d get the embarrassment over with quickly, and could move on with his life. On the other had, if he didn’t call him, he’d never have to go through it at all. But… he’d be hanging on that edge of nervousness for the rest of his life. What to do what to do…

 

_O_

 

Greg looked at his phone, still nothing from Mycroft. He was in the middle of a gigantic blowout with Sarah, he wasn’t sure if his marriage was going to make it. She hadn’t been home in a few days, and he couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t come back. His phone rang.

“DI Lestrade.” He said.

“Greg,” it was Sarah, “I’m sorry to say-”

“No you’re not.” Greg was done. He was done with Sarah blaming everything on him. Done with her leaving every other week. Done with her cheating. “You’re never sorry. I’ve let you back in my life  _ so many _ times. Every time you say ‘it’ll be different this time, G, I promise!’ but it never is. It’s always the same. You come in, get bored, and go out. We’re done.”

“Fine!” Now Sarah was angry, “we  _ are _ done. Goodbye, Greg.” She hung up. Greg flopped down with a sigh. It was a weight off his shoulders to not have to deal with that bitch anymore. As the reality of the situation settled on him, the feeling of relief grew. He hadn’t realized how loveless the marriage had been these past few years. He got up to pack Sarah's’ stuff, what little was left of it anyways.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft sat down and poured himself some wine. He went to put the bottle away, then, as an afterthought, he left it where it was. He started on the glass that he had, and thought.

_ Do I want to call the Detective Inspector? He did say he wants to get to know me better. But he’s also perfect. What the hell would he be doing with someone like me? In a friendship or otherwise. _

As he finished his second glass, he called Greg’s number. It was answered before he could thumb the ‘end call’ button.

“Mycroft?”

 

_O_

 

“Detective Inspector.” The cool voice drifted out of the receiver and into Greg’s ear. He almost didn’t dare believe it. First he called it off with his -now ex- wife, now Mycroft was calling him!

“It’s Greg, Myc.” Greg smiled giddily.

“Gregory. Please excuse me, I believe you wanted to get together?”

“Yes, I did. You free tomorrow?”

“I’ll have my assistant free my schedule.” Mycroft started mentally mapping out what he had to do the next day, no meetings, no skype calls, just paperwork. He could procrastinate for an hour or two. “Is noon okay with you?”

“Noons great, Myc.”

“I’ll see you then.” Mycroft pulled the phone away from his ear, and thumbed the end button. He could feel the nerves fluttering deep in his stomach. Why was he nervous? He dealt with foreign leaders every day, surely he could handle one Gregory Lestrade.

 

_O_

 

Greg paced his house. Sarah had come earlier that day and picked up all her stuff. Now, all he had to do was to finalize the divorce -they’d come to an agreement when she’d come ‘round. They were to meet at a Divorce Center tomorrow- and he was free from her forever. But now, now he could focus on Mycroft. He had to admit, he had been noticing some dwelling feelings for the British Government of late. He checked his watch - almost 8 - time to head to work.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft stretched in his chair. He’d just spent over 2 hours bent over his desk, on paperwork. He checked the clock; 2 hours and counting.

 

_O_

Greg walked out of the Divorce Center, the clerk had said that there was a waiting period of about 8 weeks. They’d worked out the details of the divorce in the building, so there was that. They’d kept their bank accounts separate at the beginning of the marriage. They also didn’t have any kids. All they had to do now was wait. Greg checked his watch, 11:30. Wait- Mycroft had never said where they were to meet! “Fuck.” Greg cursed under his breath.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft checked his watch- 11:30. He looked out the car window to see Gregory pacing in front of a Divorce Center. He opened the privacy screen, “please pull over here, driver.” As the car pulled up to the curb, he opened the door for Gregory, who had hopped in.”

“Jeez, Myc! You coulda just told me where we were gonna meet!” Greg stared at Mycroft in disbelief.

“But that would have ruined the surprise, Gregory.” Mycroft looked over to the DI. “We happen to be going to a very exclusive restaurant, and they would not have let you in if you had gone alone.” Greg shook his head in disbelief.

“Shit, Myc. I’m not dressed for posh.” He looked to Mycroft with his immaculate 3 piece suit, and back to himself, in his old NSY uniform. “Shit.”

Mycroft waved him off, “you look fine. I’m sure they’ve seen worse, and you’re a police officer. They’ll understand.” The car pulled to the curb and stopped in front of an seemingly empty building. “We’re here.”

They exited the car, and walked into the restaurant. “Fuck.” Greg whispered as he looked around at the pure poshness of the place. The seats were red, with dark brown wooden tables. The trim was a lovely green color. It practically screamed ‘posh.’

“I take it you like it?” Mycroft said as he signaled a waitress. “Table for two please, miss.”

“Yeah, I think I like it.” As they sat down, Greg looked at his menu. “Jeez. I coulda sworn this place woulda been a bit more expensive… at least I can pay my half o’ the bill.”

“Yes. at lea-” Mycroft’s phone buzzed. “If you’ll excuse me,” Mycroft answered, “what.” He was silent for a bit after, “I’m on my way.” He hung up.

“Work?” Greg offered Mycroft a sympathetic smile.

“I’m afraid so, I’m terribly sorry. I’ll contact again soon to try and arrange another lunch.”

“I’d like that,” Greg said with a smile, “just remember, I have your number for certain now. Don’t be surprised if you get a text from me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mycroft said dryly. “Goodbye, Gregory.”

“Bye, Myc.” And with that, Mycroft got up, and walked out of the restaurant. Greg followed, and seeing Mycroft’s car drive away, thought, ‘how am I supposed to bloody get home now?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The restaurant in this was vaguely based after 45-Jermyn Street.
> 
> Here's a link  
> https://www.innerplace.co.uk/concierge-services/restaurants/45-jermyn-street/


	3. In Which Somebody Decides To Try And Get The Stick Out Of Mycroft's Arse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we might be getting somewhere with the boys!
> 
> Criticism -as always- is appriciated

Mycroft swept into his office, his failed lunch with Gregory already forgotten. “Update me Anthea, if you will.” Anthea walked to his desk, and spoke as she laid a stack of files onto his desk.

“The situation in America has become explosive, sir. We’ve had to initiate a retrieval immediately. We’re going to need to debrief the agent once she gets back, and wait before sending her back in.”

“Who is this agent, Anthea?”

“Her name is Lila Byrne, sir. She’s sent out an SOS. We’ve sent M16 in to bail her out. She should be back within the next 12 hours.”

“Thank you, if you will, I need to prepare for the debrief.”

“Of course, sir.”

 

_O_

 

“Sherlock, what the hell!” Greg stopped dead in the middle of his living room.

“Good afternoon, Giovanni.” Sherlock spun around, smirking. “Your locks really leave something to be desired.”

“Fuck, Sherlock. How the hell did you get in here?”

“Like I said, something to be desired. I suggest you change them immediately. Or if you wish, I can just make my own for you.” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, you do that, Sherlock. It’ll keep you out of my hair for a while.”

“Goodbye, Gage,” Sherlock swept out, coat swishing behind him.

“Thank fucking God.” Greg collapsed onto his couch, sighing in relief. He’d gotten rid of Sherlock, he had mere weeks until his divorce was finalized, he was happy.

 

_O_

 

Lila Byrne waltzed into Mycroft’s office. “Your assistant told me you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Miss Byrne. I understand-”

“Mrs. Byrne, Mycie. I’m married.” Lila leaned back in the chair, and put her feet up on Mycroft’s desk.

“My apologies, I hadn’t realized that you’d gotten married.” Mycroft looked at her disdainfully, “and my name is Mycroft, not ‘Mycie’ and if you would please take your feet off my desk?”

“Yeah, I kept my maiden name, and no, I will  _ not _ take my feet off of your desk, Mycie. I’m just back from bloody America,” Lila winked at him. Mycroft just sighed.

“Fine. Now, we need to get on with your debrief…”

 

_O_

 

Greg trudged into the Yard, Sherlock had made another appearance late that night to discuss locks. He hadn’t realized, however, that most people aren’t awake and wanting to talk at 4:30 in the morning.

Sally poked her head into Greg’s office. “Boss, we’ve got a murder. Guy bloody beat some random woman to death. No DNA, no traces, no nothing.”

Greg sighed, “mind if I call Sherlock?”

“Yes, but that’s not going to stop you.” Sally whisked back out, calling, “meet me at the car!”

Greg called John, “Hey, mate. Murder, nasty case. I’ll text you the address when I get there, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell Sherlock.” John said, you could hear the relief in his voice over the crackling of the phone line. “Thanks, Greg.”

“Anytime.” Greg hung up, and went to meet Sally at the car. He hoped it would be an easy case.

 

_O_

 

“So what you are saying, Mrs. Byrne, is that it was a false alarm this whole time, and that you shouldn’t have had to go to America in the first place?”

“That’s right, Mycie!” Lila stood, stretched, sat back down, and placed her feet on Mycroft’s desk again. “No fucking reason at all! Until I got roped into the gang shit, but that’s been taken care of.”

“ _ Please _ try to control your language in my office, Mrs. Byrne, and if you would take your feet off my desk?” Mycroft pleaded.

“Not a chance, Mycie.”

 

_O_

 

Sherlock swept up the stairs, John in tow into the apartment the murder had taken place in. “Lestrade.” He nodded to Greg.

“Sherlock, John.” Greg replied, crouched by the body, “no DNA, no murder weapon, any ideas?”

“Move along, Lestrade. Let me have a look.” Greg stood up, and moved to the other side of the room to watch Sherlock.

Sherlock crouched over the body, sniffed it for some odd reason, then swept to the next room. “AH! It was the  _ husband _ ,” he ran out of the apartment.

“Sorry Greg, I’d best go after him. I’ll make sure he texts you what he’s found.” John said apologetically before running after Sherlock.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft was just finishing up his debrief with Lila when his phone rang, “excuse me, if you will.” He picked it up, “hello?”

“Myc! So, since we didn’t get a chance to finish that lunch the other day I thought-”

Mycroft cut him off, “I’m terribly sorry, Gregory, but I’m in the middle of something of great importance, so-” then Mycroft was cut off, by none other than Lila.

“No, he’s not in the middle of anything of ‘great importance,’” she shouted, winking at Mycroft.

“She’s lying, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you back, Gregory.”

“M’kay, Myc. Talk to you later!” He hung up.

“Mmmm, you like him, don’t you Mycie.” Lila said, “you’re blushing.”

“I am blushing,” Mycroft said sharply, “because you are ridiculing me over some phone call.” He stared at her.

“Yeah maybe, but you like him. I think if you got somebody to hang around with, maybe get a shag or two out of, you’d act a lot less like you’ve got a stick up your arse.”

“Mrs. Byrne!” Mycroft was appalled.

“It’s true, Mycie. I’ll find his number, I’m sure I’ll have a great friendship with this, ‘Gregory’ of yours. G’bye, Mycie. See you next week!” She winked again, and without another word, was out of his office.

“Shit.” Mycroft muttered, before turning back to his paperwork.


	4. The Chapter In Which Lila Has Taken Enough BS

“Hey, Greg,” Sally poked her head into his office, “there’s some girl here asking for you. She said her name’s Lila Byrne?”

Greg looked up, confused, “send her in, I guess.” Sally nodded, and went back out to the front. Within a few moments, a dark haired woman practically waltzed into his office.

“Mr. Lestrade-”

“It’s DI, actually.” Greg interjected, to no avail.

“Mr. Lestrade,” the woman continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “my name is Lila Byrne. I just got back from America and was hoping to forge a friendship with you.” The woman -Lila- sat down and plopped her feet up onto Gregs desk. “I’ve cleared the rest of your day, well, I had Anthea clear it, you’re free. C’mon, I’m hungry let’s go get lunch. I haven’t had London’s fish and chips in too long.” And just like that, Greg was being pulled out of his office by a woman he’d to get fish and chips at 10:30 in the morning.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft’s phone pinged, he glanced at the clock, Lila had only been gone for a few hours. He picked it up and glanced at it.

 

_ Please tell me you know this woman. _

_ Image Attachment- maxresdefault.jpg _

_ -GL _

 

It was a picture of Lila. How he’d managed to get a picture of her without her noticing was beyond him. His phone pinged again.

 

_ He just sent you that picture of me. _

_ Go ahead, tell him I work with you. _

_ -LB _

 

“I spoke too soon.” Mycroft muttered, typing a reply to Gregory.

 

_ Yes, I work with her. Her name is Lila Byrne. _

_ She’s just back from America. _

_ I’m terribly sorry, she was in my office when you called. _

_ She’s taken it upon herself to -ahem- ‘forge a friendship.’ _

_ -MH _

 

Mycroft hit send.

 

_O_

 

_ Yes, I work with her. Her name is Lila Byrne. _

_ She’s just back from America. _

_ I’m terribly sorry, she was in my office when you called. _

_ She’s taken it upon herself to -ahem- ‘forge a friendship.’ _

_ -MH _

 

Greg closed his texting app, and looked back to Lila. “You work with Mycroft, hm?”

“Oh yeah,” Lila nodded enthusiastically, “Mycie and I are super close. He’s my superior, so I get to see him all the time.”

“I see, and you were in his office when I called, you were the ‘something of great importance.’” Greg said.

“Oh, not at all.” Lila spoke around a chip, “he was finishing up with my debrief when you called. He just didn’t know it yet.”

“You walked out of a meeting with Mycroft Holmes.” Greg said in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t just walk out of a meeting with Mycroft Holmes, he walks out of meetings with you.”

“Ah.” Lila had this look of understanding on her face, “trying to date him, hm?”

“Wha- no!” Greg spluttered.

“You’re a terrible liar.” There was an air of finality around Lila’s words, “you’re trying to date him but he’s got a stick up his arse a blindfold over his eyes and earplugs in. Don’t worry, I’m now your wingman, or, I suppose, a wingwoman. I’ll get you that date, if it’s the last thing I do.”

 

_O_

 

“Sir, you really need to eat something.”

 

_O_

 

“How are we going to go about this, date.” Greg leaned forward, lacing his fingers under his chin.

“I work with him, right?” Lila mirrored his action, appearing to be thinking out loud, “anyways, so, he takes bloody awful care of himself. Sometimes he doesn’t eat or sleep for  _ days _ . I saw him earlier and I don’t think he’s eaten since, like, Monday.”

“But it’s almost Friday.” Greg’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, like I said, days at a time. Anyways, I’ll go convince him to go out and get something to eat. Knowing him, he’ll probably come pretty close to fainting as soon as he waves his car away.”

 

_O_

 

“Sir, please, you need to eat.”

 

_O_

 

“I have Anthea’s number, I’ll have her get him to this really good place, best steak I’ve ever had, you’ll be there and as he stumbles, you’ll catch him.”

“Catch him! Geez, it’s like you’re some sort of romantic or something.”

Lila laughed, “I suppose I am. Anyways, he won’t be in any state to eat out anywhere, so you’ll drive him back to his house, set him on the couch, and cook for him. Or you can drive him to your house it’s your choice but I can give you his address.”

“You’re scary, y’know that?”

“I’ve been told more than once.”

 

_O_

 

Somewhere in the distance, Mycroft heard Anthea’s phone go off, then the woman herself come into his office.

“I’ve reached my limit, sir, with all due respect, you haven’t eaten in almost 5 days. You’re going to go to this quaint little place I’ve found, and you’re not coming back until you’ve eaten a full meal, and you’ve gotten at least 4 hours of sleep.”

“Anthea,” Mycroft tried to protest, to no avail. Anthea wouldn’t hear it.

“Let’s go, sir.” Mycroft felt himself being manhandled into the car, he heard Anthea give the driver directions, he felt the car stop, he felt his legs give out, he felt someone catch him, he felt cool hands taking his pulse, he felt himself being put into another car, he felt that car stop, and he smelled hospital.


	5. In Which Greg Is Just Kinda Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this wasn't out earlier, I tried, but Thanksgiving break warped my motivation.  
> But here's your chapter, I'll get the next one out by Sunday. Promise.

“Greg, you should go get something to eat. I’ll sit with him.” Anthea placed her hand softly on Gregs shoulder. Mycroft had been in a medically induced coma for a little less than 2 days. When Greg had gotten him to the hospital, a quick assessment had proven that Mycroft was extremely malnourished as well as dehydrated. He’d been quickly hooked up to an IV, and put under so he could get through the worst of it while unconcious.

“A’ight.” Greg muttered. He stood, and stretched as Anthea settled in, booting up her laptop. She shot him a look. “Hey, if he wakes up,”

“You’ll be the first to know. Now go get a coffee and a sandwich.” She turned around, clearly stating that the conversation was over.

Greg quickly walked down to the cafe, and ordered what Anthea had prescribed. As he went to sit down, he was greeted with a facefull of Sherlock Holmes.

“It was the brother in law. He was jealous of his brother’s wife, so he killed her and kidnapped him. The husband is dead, I brought the brother into custody and John made me give our statements to the DI on duty.”

“That’s nice Sherlock.” Greg brushed him off, “now go away please.”

“Why are you here anyways, Gerard. It’s not like you, you don’t have a wife or kids or a girlfriend and all of your friends are in perfect hea-” Sherlock stopped abruptly.

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Are you fucking my brother.” Sherlock looked Greg in the eye.

“No, we haven’t even managed to get in a proper date yet.”

“You’re dating my brother. Disgusting. I shan’t be able to look you in the eye.” Sherlock pulled a face. “Goodbye, Lestrade. Maybe I’ll see you at a crime scene sometime in the next decade, after my brother has broken your heart.”

Greg laughed, “he’s not going to break my heart. We’re not even dating!”

“But you want to be.” Sherlock countered, “and so does he. So get your head out of your fucking arse because I may dislike my brother, but he does have-” a deep breath- “ _ feelings  _ for you, and I’m not going to stand by and let the man who keeps me clean and the man who gets me out of jail fall apart over each other, no matter how interesting it would be. When he wakes up text me so I can lecture him as well so I can get you two to date because I’m done. Goodbye, Lestrade.”

Sherlock swept out of the cafe. Greg threw away his half eaten sandwich, and took his coffee up with him to Mycroft’s room. Anthea looked up at him as he walked in.

“Did you eat the sandwich.”

“Yep,” Greg felt a bit intimidated under her intense glare, “I got a coffee, too. Maybe, since they’ve stopped sedating him, he’ll wake up to the smell. I know that he practically lives on the stuff.”

“You’d be right there.” Anthea replied, “I mean-” Lila swept into the room, interrupting her.

“Wassup. Still asleep, huh, Mycie.” She turned her attention to Greg, “I take it the first date didn’t go so well?”

“What tipped you off.” Greg grumbled, “all he did was pass out.”

Lila seemed unfazed by Greg’s sarcasm, “yeah, we’re gonna have to try again once he’s been released.”

“Mrs. Byrne, what a pleasant surprise.” A voice from the bed muttered. Greg flipped around.

“Mycroft! You’re awake.”

Anthea took one look at him and went off. “Sir, I understand that you’re in the hospital, but that’s not going to deter me. You’ve just spent the past two days in a fucking  _ coma _ because you starved yourself. That’s  _ not  _ going to fly anymore. You may be my boss, but from now on, I’m your caretaker because apparently you’re too stupid to do it yourself.”

“I agree with Anthea,” Greg chimed in, “you really can be stupid about that kind of thing.” Lila nodded in the background.

Mycroft looked at them, “I am perfectly capable, of caring for myself.” He sounded strained as he had tried to sit up in the middle of his sentence, but was still working off the sedative. “I don’t need  _ help _ .” He curled his lip at the word.

“Your recent actions, as well as where you are right now, say different.” Greg spoke gently, “also I’d really like to get that date in. First it was that work thing, then this. It’s upsetting.”

Lila gave Greg a thumbs up from where Mycroft couldn’t see her, and Mycroft rolled his eyes, giving a very uncharacteristic ‘whatever’ before settling back into the pillows. Before anything else could happen, however, the doctor came in, and made everyone else leave.

 

_O_

 

_ A month later _

 

Greg sat across from Mycroft in a restaurant. The day Mycroft had been released from the hospital Anthea had made a deal with him- as long as he went on one date with Greg a week, a date that would include eating of some sort, Anthea wouldn’t be completely overbearing. So, Greg and Mycroft had been dating for about a month, going out once or twice a week for lunch or dinner or a movie.

“So, Myc, how’s it been?” Greg was trying to make an attempt to talk to Mycroft.

“You saw me a week ago. It’s the exact same as it was then.” Mycroft was being like a wall. Stone cold and practically impossible to get around.

“Mycroft, I mean have you been eating and sleeping well. It’s something people say sometimes.”

“My sleeping schedule has been adequate, and I’ve been eating much better, thank you.” Greg tried to speak again, but Mycroft silenced him with an icy glare. “I’m only doing this to get Anthea off my arse about eating. You mean nothing to me, no matter what you might think.” Mycroft finished his salad quickly, and stood to leave, after leaving the payment for the meal. “Thank you for your time, Gregory. I’ll see you next week.” Mycroft swept out without so much as a glance behind him.

 

_O_

 

“Sir.” Anthea caught him as he tried to sneak back into the office, “Sir, you still have another 45 minutes of your lunch hour.”

“Gregory and I finished early, so I came back.”

“Well,” Anthea pulled out her phone and pressed a few buttons, “This voicemail says different.”

**Hey, Anthea. Mycroft left lunch early. He did eat, but he needs sleep. Thanks.**

Mycroft mentally cursed Greg for looking ahead, but he was also kind of comforted that he cared enough  _ to _ call Anthea.

“Fine. I’ll take a nap instead of working. Are you happy?” He spat as he opened the door and settled down on the couch, falling asleep in seconds.

 

_O_

 

Greg sighed and put his face in his hands. He was  _ certain _ Mycroft felt something for him, after all, he had been the one to plan their first lunch, even if Greg had been the one to suggest it.

 

_ Bing _

 

Greg leaned down to check his phone, it was a text from Sarah. He sighed, he really didn’t need the bitch today.

 

**Hey, Greg, the judge said that we can finalize the divorce this week, if you’re free. I can be free Wednesday at noon.**

 

Greg typed out a quick reply- Good with me. See u then.

 

He’d just about settled in for the night when his phone rang, the caller ID showed a blocked number. Greg figured it was Anthea, so he answered.

“Hello, Anthea,” Greg figured it was better to just get whatever it was that she was calling about over with, “what is it.”

“Not Anthea, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice crackled over the receiver, “I- just wanted to apologize for my behavior at lunch. It was unacceptable. I will see you for lunch next Monday.”

Before Greg could say anything, Mycroft hung up, leaving Greg with more questions then he had answers.


	6. In Which The Boys Are Finally Actually Getting Somewhere For Real This Time

Greg flung his phone across the room. Mycroft hadn’t showed up to their lunch the previous day, and he wasn’t picking up his phone. Anthea was just another dead end. When he’d called her, she’d just said ‘your services are no longer needed.’

Greg decided to try Lila.

“Ello, Lila Byrne speaking.” Greg sighed in relief as she spoke.

“Hey Lila, it’s Greg.”

“Mycroft’s decided he’s getting too close to you so he’s elected to not talk to you anymore and he’s told me and Anthea to do the same. He’s got a crush on you, you should do something about it.”

Greg stood, petrified at what Lila had just told him. “Wait, you mean to tell me he likes me so he’s cutting all contact?”

“Yep. I’ve almost got him convinced to ask you out on a date, gimme another 6 hours and I’ll make it happen. He likes you a lot, Greg. I’ll talk to you when he’s working himself up to ask you out. G’bye.” She hung up.

Greg turned off his phone, and headed into work. It was working up to be a long fucking day.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft stared at his personal phone, the words ‘4 missed calls from- Gregory’ blinked back up at him. He sighed and put his head in his hands. Lila had been trying to convince him to ask the DI on a date, he wasn’t sure, however. The DI seemed to only like Mycroft as a friend, and nothing Mycroft seemed to do could change that.

As Mycroft was lost in thought, Lila burst into his office. “Mrs. Byrne, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Alright, Mycie. We’re done playing. Go ask Greg out for a date. He likes you just as much as you like him- if not more. He won’t turn you down, I promise. And I swear to motherfucking God, if you don’t ask him out within two hours, I’ll ask him out for you!” With that, she left.

 

_O_

 

Greg’s phone started ringing about half past three, he answered and put it on speaker. “Lestrade.”

“Hello, Gregory. I’ve been instructed to ask you out to dinner, if you would be amenable?”

“This would be between friends, or between lovers.” Greg just wanted to make sure before he went and bought flowers.

“Between lovers, if that’s okay with you.” Mycroft sounded nervous.

“That’d be great. Pick me up at seven.”

“See you then.” With that, Mycroft hung up. Greg leaned back in his chair, finally! They were getting somewhere.


	7. In Which They Both Get Their Heads Out Of Their Asses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if I should keep this at a teen rating, or bring it up to mature.  
> Opinions, anyone?

Greg sat in the backseat of Mycroft’s fancy car, beside Mycroft. They were headed out on their first -real- date.

“So, uh, Myc, where are we goin’?” Greg asked nervously.

“It’s a quaint little restaurant on the other side of town, famous for its fish. It’s also popular for people to go there on their first date, much like us. I do hope you’ll like it.”

Mycroft stopped talking and the silence returned. They soon pulled up at the restaurant, and made their way inside. A waiter came up to their table.

“May I start you two out with something to drink?” He said, pulling out his notepad. Greg looked to Mycroft, “you’re better at this than I am, go ahead and order for the both of us.

“We’ll both have salmon with Pinot Noir, please.” Mycroft handed the waiter the menus, “thank you.”

The waiter scurried away, leaving a pitcher of water and two glasses. As Greg reached over to pour them some water, Mycroft spoke.

“Gregory, I’d like you to know that I’m not very good at this whole, romance thing. But my feelings for you have been developing for some time, and I’d like to explore them with you, if you’d be amiable.”

Greg looked up, “are you asking if we could be exclusive, if so, then sure. I’d be happy to call you my boyfriend.”

Mycroft looked taken aback, “are you sure, my job isn’t exactly the most steady, and I have enemies-”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Greg looked at Mycroft, amusement dancing in his eyes, “I’m a police officer, the DI no less. My jobs not any more predictable or safe than yours is. You don’t need to worry, I understand.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the food, which sparked a new one.

“Shit, Myc. This is so fucking good!” Greg spoke around his mouthful of salmon as Mycroft cut into his.

“Why thank you, Gregory, I do try.” Mycroft bit into his, and closed his eyes for a moment in bliss. “You’re right, this is good.”

They soon finished their food, and the waiter came back. “Can I get you two anything else? Dessert, perhaps.”

“I don’t think so,” Mycroft looked to Greg, “I’m paying.” The waiter nodded, and left to get the check.

“You don’t want dessert?” Greg looked at Mycroft, “is this because of Sherlock?”

“This is not because of Sherlock,” his phone beeped, just as Gregs did. Greg checked his and sighed, “triple homicide, I’ve gotta take this. Bye Myc, I’ll plan the next one.” Greg got up, and left, texting Sally as he left.

Mycroft checked his phone, and texted Anthea instructions to keep it quiet and under control until he could get back. The check came, and Mycroft paid, leaving a tip before he left for his office.

 

_O_

 

“Lestrade, I heard about the triple murder, and I’m here to solve it.” Sherlock breezed onto the crime scene like he owned the place, just as Greg finished getting the bodies packed up. “Of course, I would’ve needed to actually see the bodies in order to solve it, you idiot.”

Greg looked up, exasperated. “Yes, I know, but this one, I can actually solve on my own! The murderer didn’t kill one of them immediately, so she wrote a note. It was the brother, goodbye, Sherlock.”

Greg walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Sherlock behind, and nearly walking right into his older brother.

“Hey, Myc! Why are you here?” Greg smiled.

“Sherlock.”

“Ah, well he’s in there. Good luck, I just ripped a triple homicide out of his hands by solving it before he got here. Bye, Myc. I’ll call you tomorrow, kay?

“Okay, Gregory. Goodbye.”

Greg drove over to the Yard, he sighed, happy about the day, but, the mountain of paperwork ahead did  _ not  _ seem like fun.

 

_O_

 

“Sherlock, you do realize that the fact that you showed up here without Gregory calling you means that you’ve found some way to screen his phone. I’ll take whatever that is when we get back to Baker Street. Where’s your keeper?”

“John?” Sherlock asked, “he’s on a date.”

“Not for much longer.” Mycroft said darkly, he pulled out his phone, and called John. “Dr. Watson? Your charge has been screening Gregory’s phone. I’m taking his back to Baker Street as we speak, if you would be so kind as to meet us there?”

Sherlock shot a dark look at Mycroft as he dragged him out to the car. “Why did you have to do that! Now John’s going to be mad at me.” Sherlock dropped into his seat, and refused to look at Mycroft the entire ride back to his flat.

“Sherlock Holmes! Not only have you been screening Greg’s phone without my knowledge, but you’ve been screening Greg’s phone! You’ve also gone behind my back to crime scenes you haven’t been invited to, and made up scenarios where I’m unavailable so that Mycroft won’t call me. That’s ending now. Mycroft, I’m dating your brother, and he’s sleeping on the couch tonight!” John looked at Sherlock again, “and that’s final! I’ll take it from here, Mycroft.” Sherlock was then dragged inside to face John's wrath.

Mycroft turned around, slightly afraid to ever be on Dr. Watson’s bad side, and left to go back to his office. He had a date with Gregory to analyze with Lila.


	8. In Which Sarah Is A Bitch And The Second Date Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I estimate three or four more chapters in this before it's done.  
> Tell me what you think!

“So, you’re saying that since he said he’d call me today, and asked why I didn’t want dessert, he cares about me?” Mycroft wasn’t sure how he’d gotten roped into this little gossip session with Anthea and Lila, but it was helping. He’d learned more about his feelings toward Gregory, as well as what Gregory’s actions towards him meant in an hour with them than he’d been able to figure out in a decade.

“Exactly.” Lila grabbed his phone, and waved it in his face. “Now all we need to do is wait for him to call, and we’ll see exactly what he thinks of you.”

As if her words had sparked it, his phone rang, Gregory’s name flitting across the screen.

“Speak of the devil.” Anthea murmured, snatching the phone back from Lila and giving it to Mycroft.

“Hello, Gregory.”

“Myc! So, this is probably kinda short notice, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come over later, get some takeaway, and watch a movie? I know we just got dinner yesterday, but I just thought it might be fun.”

Mycroft looked to Anthea, “am I free?” She nodded. “I’m free, when should I be there and what should I bring.”

“Be here at like, seven, and bring yourself and your takeaway preference in mind. There’s this great little Italian place by my flat if you’d be interested.”

“Definitely, but I need to get back to work for now, I’ll see you then. Goodbye, Gregory.

“Bye Myc.” Greg hung up.

“So, Mycie, another big date tonight?” Mycroft nodded, “well then seeing as it’s going to be at Greg’s house -oh don’t give me that look I’m not in the Secret Service for nothing- then you’re going to need to dress down. Sweater vests, Mycie. Sweater vests will be your friend.” Lila’s phone beeped, “that’s my other boss. Bye bye, Mycie. Text me after.” She swept out.

“You should get some work done, sir. I’ll tell the PM you’re ready for your meeting?”  
“That sounds great, Anthea. Thank you.”

 

_O_

 

Greg was in the middle of cleaning his flat when the doorbell rang. He sighed in relief, and went to open it.

“Hey, Ly. Thanks for coming, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Greggy. Now, it looks like you’re cleaning up. Good, I swear if the man has one paper half a millimeter out of place on his desk he’ll throw a fucking fit.” Lila glanced around, “but we still wanna make sure that it’s still your flat. Here, take this blanket.” She picked a blanket off of the floor, “drape it across the back of the chair, but don’t fold it.” She tossed it over the chair. “See? It’s off the floor but it still looks like you didn’t put in any effort.”

“Thanks Ly.” Greg sighed in relief, he’d been wondering about that.

“Now, what about the bedroom…”

“Now hang on! I don’t think we’ll be going in there!” Greg ran after Lila, who, smirking, ran towards his bedroom.

 

_O_

 

“Lisa, what should I wear?” Mycroft paced in front of Anthea, accidentally using her real name while stressing over what to wear on his date.

“It’s Anthea, sir.” Said woman didn’t look up from her phone, and paused a moment before saying, “go with the sweater vest like Lila said. She’s usually right about these things, in my experience.”

 

_O_

 

“Thanks Lila, now, get out of here. He’s gonna be here in a half hour.” Lila and Greg had spent the last 2 hours doing a semi-deep clean of Greg’s flat, meaning they’d done a complete deep clean making it shine then gone back over and aesthetically messed it up.

“Kick me out then, not like I did anything.” Lila said dramatically, “you owe me, Greggy.”

“I know, Ly. I’ll buy you lunch this weekend. Goodbye.”

“Bye bye.” She swept out, and Greg collapsed onto his couch, ready to wait out the remaining minutes before Mycroft arrived.

 

_O_

 

Mycroft knocked on the door to Greg’s flat, and waited. Greg soon opened the door, and ushered him in. “Hey Myc! How are you doing?”

“Good, Gregory. How are you?” Mycroft glanced around Greg’s flat as he was ushered into the living room.

“I’m good, are you hungry now, or would you rather wait and start the movie first.” Greg grabbed a stack of DVD’s and plunked them onto the coffee table, “it doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“If we could order now, then start the movie, that would be great, Gregory.”

“Works for me.”

 

_O_

 

An hour later, they were sitting on the couch, watching Back to the Future, surrounded by takeaway containers.

“I’m surprised that you’d actually be interested in this, Myc”

“Are you kidding me? This is comedy gold.” Mycroft rested his head on Greg’s shoulder, and watched as Marty argued with the younger version of Doc Brown, insisting that he was from the future.

“I’m glad you agree. Otherwise, we’d have to break up,” Greg said with a smile. “Can’t date someone who doesn’t like this stuff.”

Mycroft smiled, and nodded against Greg’s shoulder, breathing him in. His scent was intoxicating, laundry detergent, coffee, and takeaway, with the undercurrent of his cologne. There was a sudden commotion over by the door.

“I’ll go check it out.” Greg got up, and left Mycroft to go see what had happened. There was silence, then, “What the fuck Sarah! Why the hell to you still have a key to  _ my fucking flat _ ? None of the stuff here is yours anyways! Fuck, why are you even fucking here!” Mycroft winced, he knew that Greg and Sarah were getting a divorce, but he was also under the impression that it was an agreement made by both parties.

“I’m here, Greg, because I wanted to talk to you, and you weren’t answering my texts.” Sarah said, calmly.

“Give me the key, and get out.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Give me the fucking key Sarah.”

They went on like that for a while, and eventually, Mycroft just blocked them out, and paused the movie to wait until Greg got back, which he eventually did.

“I’m sorry Myc. She’s a right bitch.

“Did you get your key back?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s just keep watching the movie then. I was enjoying it.” Mycroft looked up at Greg, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah Myc, that sounds great.” Greg sat back down, right where he was before Sarah had broken in, only this time he put his arm around Mycroft’s shoulders.

“Thanks for understanding, Myc.”

“Of course, Gregory.”


	9. In Which They Figure It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez I say three or more chapters and whoopdeedoo I finish with the next one.  
> There's a fucking summary of my life.

Sarah hadn't bothered the two since Greg had chewed her out about having a key to his flat, even after they’d supposedly agreed to get a divorce. He had been on edge though, and Mycroft couldn’t say he was surprised when he went off on Sherlock for breaking into his flat.

“Sherlock, why in the ever buggering  _ fuck _ are you in my flat. Because, you see, it’s  _ my fucking flat _ and last time I checked, that means that you don’t get to come in  _ whenever the hell you want _ !”

“I agreed to fix the locks to your flat, remember Lestrade? I finally figured out how to do it, now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to install them now. I’ve already informed your landlord,” Greg flinched, “and he grudgingly agreed.”

Greg cut in at this point, “you’re going to have to do damage control, he already doesn’t like me.”

“Details, Gary, details. Let me install the locks and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Greg sighed and went to check his phone, finding one message from Mycroft.

_ Is my brother being horribly annoying? _

_ I can have him evicted from your building. _

_ -MH _

 

_O_

 

Mycroft fired off another email to one of his underlings, he was waiting for the end of the day, when he’d see Gregory again. His phone pinged from the drawer he’d placed it in earlier that day. He pulled it out.

 

_ If you could wait till he’s done _

_ playing with my locks, that’d _

_ Be great. Thanks! _

_ -GL _

 

Mycroft smiled to himself, two more hours, and he’d be able to see Gregory live and in person. He was excited, they’d been talking a lot more recently, and Mycroft found himself falling farther and farther for the man.

Mycroft sighed, thinking of the rest of the work he had to do, when only moments before, he’d been happy with what he was doing.

_ Two more hours, consider this your reward for working all day. You can go to Gregory’s flat and cuddle and watch stupid films on his telly. _

 

_O_

 

Greg heard his doorbell ring, and he scurried to answer it. Myc stood in front of his door, smiling.

“Hello, Gregory. It’s a relief to see you after the day I’ve had.” He walked in and hung his umbrella by the door.

“I’m glad you can see me as a relief, Myc. I’m happy to see you too.” Greg smiled and grabbed Myc’s arm, leading him to the couch. “Can you tell me about it?”

Mycroft sighed in relief, Greg understood that he sometimes might not be able to share things, so instead of asking if he wanted to talk, he asked if he could talk. That small difference made it so much easier to talk with him.

“Yeah, I can.”

“Do you want to?”

“Just a lot of paperwork.”

Greg nodded, “yeah, that sucks.”

Mycroft nodded in agreement, leaning his head onto Greg’s chest and snuggling in. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the next thing he knew he was being gently shaken awake.

“Hey love, it’s almost eleven, do you wanna go home or stay over?” Greg’s eyes were soft and full of unguarded adoration.

Mycroft let out a soft whine, and grasped onto Gregory’s shirt. “Can I stay?” He murmured softly.

Instead of answering, Greg lifted Mycroft up, and carried him to his bedroom. “I need you to undress yourself, okay? I’ll grab you some pyjamas.” Mycroft nodded, and went to work on his shirt. Soon enough, Greg came back with an old T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, already dressed for bed.

“Here you go. I’ve texted Anthea telling her that you’re spending the night, she said you’ve got tomorrow off and since I do too, I’ve not set an alarm. Put these on and we can go to bed.”

Mycroft got into Greg’s clothes, smiling a bit. His surroundings smelled like his boyfriend and he was happy. As soon as he got dressed, he crawled under the covers with Greg, curling against his chest.

“G’night love.” Greg pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, Gregory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for this one! If you guys want, however, I wouldn't mind writing a little sequel.  
> Let me know!


End file.
